|
THE STORY WEAVERKAROO TALES
|
|
Karoo Tales |
Each Story Weaver newsletter contains a Karoo Tale here are some of them and January 2006 A Fishy Story The tourist stood on the pavement, a broad hat
shaded his face but his puzzled expression was clearly visible. Behind him
his fellow travellers filled the windows of the small bus carrying them on
a Christmas holiday trip through the Air-conditioning explained the closed windows which
transformed their conversation into mime – fingers pointed, eyebrows
raised, their perplexity was clear to see. The object of their speculation was a frangipani
tree, or rather the plastic bags suspended from its branches, each filled
with water and a glistening, glassy-eyed goldfish. A closer look revealed
that the flimsy fins and iridescent scales were plastic. As the tourist raised his camera to record this
strange sight the front door of the house behind the tree opened and the
owner emerged. “Hello,” said the tourist,” We’re all
wondering about this here tree, what’s it about?” “It’s our Christmas tree, we decorate it every
year.” “Right, but what’s with the fish?” “Oh, they’re there to catch the tourists.” The visitor turned and stepped towards the bus; he
opened the door and stood on the step: “They’re there to catch the tourists!” he
reported. The bus erupted with laughter and the passengers
poured out to take their own photos. Frangipani, fish and the family, all
preserved for posterity in pixels, a most unusual Karoo scene to be shown
to friends and family in “Best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen, mate,”
one said as they clambered back into their bus … An extract from “Of Fish and Flies”, a story
from a book in the making by The Story Weaver. April 2005 Vygies and Fossils Last month I spoke about Gordon’s
Koppie. It is one of the few sites where the vygie Bijlia
cana is to be found. This rare plant which takes its name from
Deborah van der Bijl, who discovered it. The van der Bijl family story
is a little Karoo treasure: William
van der Bijl was born at Stellenbosch in 1866. Serious health problems
meant that he spent only two years at school, but he studied on his own
at home, eventually writing his matriculation exams. He soon headed for
the gold fields of the Witwatersrand and made and lost two fortunes
before returning to the Cape to manage John X Merriman’s farm,
Schoongezicht. He married Deborah Malan and the couple eventually came
to live at Abrahamskraal – a farm in the Prince Albert district. It
was a barren place with a two-roomed shed and a single fig tree, but
nothing deterred William and he set up a chain of fifteen dams and
developed extensive wheat and lucerne lands. William
and Deborah built a gracious home, raised a large family and enjoyed
entertaining visitors. Some fascinating people came to stay: the Struben
brothers who had discovererd the Witwatersrand gold reef, the famous
palaeontologists Sidney Haughton and Robert Broom, botanists from all
over Europe and the opera singer Cecilia Wessels. Deborah and William were an
amazing couple, besides running the busy farm they each developed their
own particular hobbies to the extent that they became acknowledged
international experts in their fields. Deborah was fascinated with Mesembryanthemums - that’s vygies to you and me - the little
succulents which thrive in the Karoo. She established a vygie garden at
Abrahamskraal and struck up a correspondence with Mr.
Brown, the Curator of Kew Gardens. As she discovered new plants, she
sent him specimens. Several had not been scientifically described, so
they received her name, or the names of her children, which is how we
come to have the Bijlia cana.
Deborah was a member of the Cactus and Succulent Societies of
Great Britain
and the USA and submitted many articles to both their journals.
She corresponded with the great South African botanist Bolus,
after whom the herbarium at Kirstenbosch is named and the family papers
include some delightful letters from a palaeontologist at the University
of Tübingen who made several trips to the farm to collect fossils and
took back a great number of plants for the Botanical Gardens in his home
town. Mentioning fossils brings me to William. His mild
interest in the fossils which regularly turned up on the farm developed
into a passion and he became an acknowledged expert. Dr Robert Broom
wrote about him in his Great Book of Fossils: “I
succeeded in getting Mr. van der Byl to pay less attention to Pareiasaurs
which were well known, and more to the Dinocephalian
specimens even though imperfect; and as a result, while very little
was known about those giants twelve years ago, now our knowledge is
fairly satisfactory and almost all we know is due to Mr. van der Byl...” All William’s discoveries were sent to the South
African Museum. Abrahamskraal has recently been renovated and is now a guest house, filled once more with visitors, no doubt Deborah and William would be delighted. It’s good to remember this happy couple, whose interest in the stones and tiny plants which flourished among them, brought them such satisfaction and contributed new scientific knowledge to the world.
March
2005
A
Karoo Tale
Gordon's Koppie - a gentle stroll
In September last year I mentioned Gordon’s Koppie, which lies behind the village. As Summer settles into our memories and the cooler days of Autumn beckon, more folk will set out for a stroll along the koppie. A brief clamber takes you to the top of the low hill with its well marked path, which affords a gentle walk with magnificent views across the village and the Great Karoo. The
views are captivating, yet Gordon’s Koppie has more to offer: a
quietness which might be touched, tiny vignettes made up of stones and
tough little plants, flowers in due season and a sense of space and time
which evokes infinity.
In
May 1999 the koppie was officially named after Captain Robert Jacob
Gordon. The South African author and poet Patrick Cullinan unveiled a
granite slab bearing Gordon's name and the date 1778, the year in which
he sat on this hill to paint the view to the East, which included the
farm Queekvallei. The painting is part of the Reijksmuseum collection in
Amsterdam, a copy hangs in our Fransie Pienaar Museum.
Patrick
was the obvious person to perform the ceremony, since he is the author
of a comprehensive biography called Robert Jacob Gordon 1743 - 1795
The Man and His Travels at the Cape.
Gordon
was a 'Renaissance man', a Dutch soldier of Scots descent with an
intense curiosity about local flora and fauna, whose journals record the
intricacies of the land he explored. He commented upon the geology,
weather, topography and even the atmospheric pressure. Gordon had an
aptitude for languages and was able to converse with the African peoples
he met on his journeys, showing great interest in their customs and
ceremonies. He eventually became the Commander of the Castle at the Cape
and his life came to a dramatic and tragic end when he committed suicide
after the British occupied the Cape in 1795.
If I have whetted your appetite, read Patrick’s book for more about
this fascinating man. Back
to the koppie: after rain it brings forth new life. Bright splashes of
colour demand attention. Tiny florets appear on dry wooden stems, fleshy
leaves cradle clumps of yellow petals beneath the protection of thorny
bushes. Gordon's Koppie is one of the few places where the
mesembryanthemum
Bijlia cana flowers. Daisies seem to grow out of solid rock, making one
wonder how their roots find purchase and seek out water. Prehistoric,
leathery leaves spread across barren land, send forth flowers and seed
as swiftly as possible, then dry back into obscurity until the next
rains.
Climb
the koppie in the morning when all is still and sounds carry over a
great distance. You might hear bleating from the sheep grazing the scrub
beside the Weltevrede road, or a dog barking down at the dairy. The
church clock chimes the hour and the village stirs. In the evenings a cooling breeze sweeps down from the Swartberg, rustling the leaves and stirring the air, while the rocks still hold the heat of the day. Sit on the same hill as Robert Gordon to watch a fiery sunset, then head down towards the village in the last lingering light, before sky darkens into the grandeur of star-filled night.
February
2005
A
Karoo Tale
Memories
of a gabled house
There
are many gracious old homes in Prince Albert. Those built by Carel Lotz
between 1840 and 1860 bear his particular signature, a gable, unique to
each house, although collectively known as the Prince Albert Gables. Onse
Rus, in the main road, is one of Carel’s designs. In
the November newsletter I told
the tale of fourteen year old Almaro Oosthuizen crossing the Zwartberg
Pass in a mule cart with teachers from the local school, a
journey which ended in a hurried descent of the zig-zags to avoid driving
in the dark. Years later Almaro’s son (named after his father) recorded
some recollections of life at Onse Rus with his grandparents. He had many
happy memories of the house where he spent the school terms. In those days
it was a rambling old place and Almaro’s favourite room was the pantry,
a small room at the end of the passage which his sisters reckoned should
have been a bathroom, but because it was fitted with shelves it was used
as a pantry. Imagine the many delights to be found there – jams and
preserved fruit, biltong and biscuits, a treasure trove for a young,
growing lad. Growing
he most certainly was and these were the days of the Great Depression, so
there wasn’t any spare money for clothes. When Almaro needed new clothes
he had to bring a pair of tame springboks from the farm to sell to local
shopkeeper Piet Doppies for money to buy a suit, which was made for him by
the tailor, 'Man Rank', who rented a room off the long front stoep at Onse
Rus. In those days the stoep was covered, but the façade has been
returned to its original state. Almaro
had another delightful memory from those cash-strapped days. The local
bank manager, Mr. Erasmus, was a resourceful man and he devised a scheme
to help keep the local economy ticking over. Everyone in town was to get a
few chickens so that the eggs could be sold to a guaranteed buyer – the
Egg Circle in Cape Town. Almaro reckoned that there wasn’t a single
moment of the day or night when the sound of a chicken laying an egg
couldn’t be heard in Prince Albert! He and his sister raised over 300
chickens on the family farm, which brought in a tidy sum. Almero left us in 1999 and as the years pass, memories fade and stories are lost, but the few that are preserved bring back wonderful pictures of days gone by. As you stand on a quiet evening gazing on the gables, the white-washed walls and thatched roofs of houses like Onse Rus, whispers of the past beckon you to find out more __________________________________ January
2005 A
Karoo Tale The
opening of the Swartberg Pass On the 10th of January 1888 a jubilant parade passed under three triumphal arches stretched across Church Street in Prince Albert, heading for the summit of the Swartberg Pass and the official opening ceremony. Thomas
Bain had worked with some 230 convicts, building the pass with shovels,
pick-axes and sheer muscle-power. Huge rocks had been heated with fire then
doused with water, splitting with resounding cracks, followed by the crash of
sledgehammers as the convicts broke them into yet smaller pieces. Thomas must have walked or
ridden across the pass hundreds of times, directing the construction of the dry
stone walls which support the road as it winds its way through the mountains.
When viewed from below, the walls which carry the road up the twisting zig-zags on the Prince Albert side
of the pass, might be mediaeval ramparts. What an exciting occasion it must
have been. More than a hundred pony-traps and mule carts made their way up the mountain,
accompanied by men on horseback. Ladies wore their best frocks, their colourful
hats and parasols protecting them from the fierce sun. Flags were paraded,
bearing the words: Labor Omnia Vincit – work conquers all; Aanhou Wen and
Never Despair. At the former workstation site the crowd mingled with guests from
Oudtshoorn, the Union Flag was hoisted and Colonel Schermbrucker, the
Commissioner of Crown Lands performed the official opening. The Oudtshoorn Courant reports as follows: “Colonel Schermbrucker, in a pronounced German accent
said: “Mr Bain is a wonderful man. Show him an easy place to make a road, he
shakes his head and says: “No”, but show him a place where a monkey can’t
get out and he will jump at it like a cat!” “Mr Bain’” asked the Colonel: “Are you ready to
hand over the Pass?” “I am ready.” was the reply.” The Colonel’s daughter, Gertrude, shattered a bottle of
champagne against a rock and a twenty-one gun salute echoed across the pass.
Colonel Schermbrucker, with a Victorian sense of the dramatic, proclaimed:
“We stand here as conquerors today – we have conquered
nature, which at one time appeared insuperable!” The celebrations continued with breakfast served by the Divisional Council of Prince Albert followed by a luncheon for the guests of honour, provided by the Oudtshoorn Divisional Council. The excitement spilled over to the next day when a large crowd visited the Cango Caves and another celebratory meal was enjoyed. Today people stop for picnics at the site of the grand celebrations, where a commemorative plaque was unveiled a hundred years later, as Colonel Schermbrucker’s great-granddaughter did the honours with a champagne bottle. Gazing across the sweep of the mountains visitors can follow the line of the road, a swirl of dust indicating more travellers taking advantage of Bain’s foresight and engineering skill. It is a tranquil place, where Black Eagles soar and the wind, stirring the pine trees, whispers a blessing upon Thomas’ name. __________________________________ December 2004 Children of the Stars In days gone by Bushmen lived on the plain which lies
before Prince Albert and they wandered the foothills of the Swartberg. Their
touch was gentle, even the softest breeze might blow their footprints from
the dust and carry away the sounds of their splashing through the sparkling
waters at the foot of the mountains. Here and there they left signs in ochre and black and white
pigments: a pair of eland on a rock face at Weltevrede, small handprints in a
cave, a hunter poised to throw his spear; at Scholtzkloof a swallow, who soars between this
world and the next, carrying spirit’s cry and human’s questions into
eternity. At Tierberg ostrich shell beads and chipped stones tell the
tale of a people who lived as one with the land, understanding its every breath and
relying upon it for food, shelter and clothing. Sometimes, in the gentleness of Karoo morning, or the
stark, shimmering heat of full blown day, mind’s eye watches a line of brown
hunters running across the veld, following the signs which show the passage of a
herd of buck. But it is at night that the spirits of the Bushmen fill the
Karoo. When a million stars arch in splendour across the firmament I am reminded
of their belief that they were children of the stars. Each pinprick of light in
the blue-black sky the essence of a beautiful child who lived in harmony with
the earth. Sit quietly beneath those stars and listen for the crackle of the
fire, the click of conversation, laughter, and rejoice in a blessing from a
gentle people, custodians of the earth and keepers of the Karoo. __________________________________
November 2004 In the early days of the Swartberg Pass many mule carts and pony traps took advantage of the splendid new route across the mountains. Almero Oosthuizen was born and raised on Droogekloof, a farm near the village, as was his father before him. Almero once related this tale of a trip his father (also named Almero) took over the Pass when he was a youngster of fourteen. During the school terms Almero boarded with Dominee Adriaan Hofmeyr and his wife at the parsonage. One day during 1892 the lad was asked to drive three lady teachers from the school to a meeting in Oudtshoorn. Bright and early he buckled the mules into their harnesses, eased them into the shafts of the cart and set out on an uneventful trip through the Pass, down to the bustling town of Oudtshoorn. While the teachers attended their meeting, Almero enjoyed a lazy few hours sitting in the shade, eating his lunch and chatting to people, then wandering around, admiring the shops and the fine horses and wagons in the busy streets. The
hours ticked by and Almero began to worry that they wouldn’t
make it home before dark. Eventually they started for home, but by
the time they began the descent from ‘Die Top’ it was dusk.
The young man yelled lustily and cracked his whip, for he had no
wish to descend the zig-zags in the dark, and the mules set off
down the pass at a brisk pace. They got to Droëwaterval
at the foot of the zig-zags just before darkness fell and
arrived home by moonlight. The tale was often retold over the years and young Almero asked: “Weren’t you frightened?” “Oh no,” replied his dad –“you know the road is fairly straight from there, but I’ll tell you what bothered me, son, it was the shrieking and screaming of those silly teachers - it was loud enough to wake the dead!” __________________________________
October 2004 A Karoo Tale: Thoughts on a sunny Saturday ... It started small: a few tables on the dusty square, a few people's enthusiasm and drive carried it forth. Dried fruit here, pies there, veggies from gardens and a smattering of crafts. Then a braai fire appeared, spluttering as roosterkoek swelled and browned. We ate 'bazaar pudding' in summer and soup in winter and sometimes the sizzle of sausages scented the air and tummies rumbled in anticipation. R5.00 a table – is that really all it costs? Yet how far that money has gone: first the 'biesiedak' rose to provide shade; then a proper bridge replaced the planks over the furrow. Trees were planted and a banner advertised the Saturday Market... A place to buy local produce, cakes and meat; somewhere to find the little extra’s like nuts and scented posies and moist meringues; to enjoy a cup of coffee and – oh most fulfilling of facts – catch up on the gossip! It’s not REALLY gossip, just the village news, the current topics of discussion, concern for one’s neighbour – oh alright, gossip! So we gather, baskets in hand, chatting away, pouncing upon the plenty and celebrating what the village has to offer. To greet friends not seen for seven long days, smile at visitors and enjoy their delight at the variety of jams and olives and biscuits and rusks. To tap the beat as musicians frolic through boeremusiek. To taste the cinnamon sprinkled on a pancake. To savour the scene, the buzz and the sense of satisfaction that is the Saturday Market in Prince Albert. words from the cd rom prince albert images by digital sa click here for more information
__________________________________
September 2004 A Karoo Tale: "Die Oog" Prince Albert lies stretched beneath a long, low hill called Gordon’s Koppie. A well marked path threads its way up and along the top, giving walkers a bird's eye view of the village and providing a look-out across the Great Karoo. It makes a wonderful place for a sun-downer. As you lift your glass of wine you can watch the sunset creating a fiery spectacle in the western sky as lights flicker on in the village and a swirl of dust rises on the gravel road to the East.
Had
you sat there on many an evening between 1940 and 1960 you might have seen
a strange light moving across the veld to the northeast of the village.
Starting as a small glow, it grew to a brilliant ball of fire which the
locals dubbed 'Die Oog' (the Eye). The light would sweep across the veld
and seemed to be attracted to metallic objects such as gates or motor
cars. Appearing as if from nowhere, it would either rush away across the
veld to fizzle out in the distance, or simply disappear, like a candle
being snuffed out.
Oom
Awie Snyders told a splendid tale of his encounter with 'Die Oog'. He
was a teacher at a farm school on the Seekoegat Road and one evening he
drove into Prince Albert to attend a meeting. He brought one of his
pupils with him, young Willie Niehaus, who wanted to visit his Ouma.
Once Awie's meeting was over and he had collected Willie, they headed
back to the farm.
The
night was clear, crisp and moonless, the stars shining in all their
splendour and as they turned onto the farm road they saw another vehicle
come over the koppie ahead of them, both cars were heading for the same
gate. The other car stopped at the gate and as they drew near Awie
remarked that it must have a problem, as it appeared to have only one
headlight. As they stopped on their side of the gate the 'headlight'
started to get brighter ... and bigger .. until neither Awie nor Willie
could look at it. They realised they had encountered 'Die Oog'. The
light hovered on the other side of the gate and then, quite suddenly, it
vanished. At this point in his story Oom Awie would twinkle and
say: "and I made little Willie Niehaus get out of the car, to open
the gate!" Last seen in 1960, when it accompanied a motorist from the Prince Albert Road station right through to the airfield outside the village, 'Die Oog' remains a Karoo mystery... but perhaps we will learn more, for there have been whispers that it has re-appeared near Kruidfontein. __________________________________
August 2004 A Karoo Tale An Anglo-Boer War love story
Early
in 2004 I was waiting outside the Museum for guests for the Ghost Walk
when a visitor chanced by. We got talking, her name was Ann Raats
and she was visiting Prince Albert to find out more about her
grandmother, Marie Botes, who was born in the district in the 1870’s.
Marie
came from pioneering stock, her grandfather was Gerrit Maritz
who left the Graaff Reinet district during the Great Trek and headed
north to escape British domination. As a teenager Marie married a Mr
Griessel and settled in the Orange Free State. When war was declared her
husband joined the Boer forces, leaving Marie and the children to run
the farm, relying on black servants to help with the heavy work, until
one terrible day when a contingent of British troopers rode over the
koppie. Marie
was told to pack some essentials, while the soldiers looked for any
valuables. Marie and her oldest son had buried the few bits of silver
and crockery they treasured some weeks before, half expecting just this
sort of visit. Some of the troopers set about killing the chickens to
take with them for dinner that night and once the family was assembled
on a wagon before their house, they shattered the few windows, opened
the door and threw burning torches into the building. As the wagon
pulled away the sound of sobbing and bewildered questions from the
children rose above the crackling of the fire. Marie,
her four sons and small daughter were loaded onto a train and
disembarked at a concentration camp. In this most brutal stage of the
Anglo-Boer War thousands of women and children were transported to camps
to prevent them supporting their menfolk who had resorted to commando
raids on the British army. They struggled to survive in tents with
inadequate water, too few pit toilets and too little food. Malnutrition
and harsh weather brought about epidemics, soon graveyards could be seen
alongside the fences which surrounded the camps. In some camps
desperate military doctors did what they could with inadequate supplies
and facilities but conditions continued to deteriorate and the death
rate rose. Into
this depressing scene rode Captain Soudy, a man with a conscience. An
officer in the Inniskilling Dragoon Guards, he had served in the Graaff
Reinet district and knew the Karoo. He had been wounded and once
restored to health – albeit with a bad limp, he was transferred to
camp duty. Captain
Soudy viewed the camp with horror. He obtained more rations for the
prisoners, made sure the women were treated politely and paid visits to
those who lost their children. So it was that one sad day he called on
Marie Griessel, whose little daughter had died in the night. He
expressed his regret at her death and asked if there was anything he
could do. Marie
stood, a proud Boer woman, with her four sons gathered about her,
“Yes,” she said “you can get me a coffin for my child.” A
great tragedy of the war was that there was often no dominee to say a
prayer at the graveside and there were simply no coffins. Women and
children who died in the camps were wrapped in a sheet or a blanket and
often even that covering was quietly removed before the soil was
shovelled over the body. But Marie could not bear to think of her child
smothered in the clinging soil – she wanted the dignity of a coffin. Captain
Soudy promised he would do what he could. He limped to the farmhouse
where he and the medical officer were billeted and called his sergeant.
“Bring me a munitions box” he ordered. The short box would be just
long enough for the child. Within the hour he stooped to enter Marie’s
tent and delivered the box, which Marie lined with her blue silk dress
– hastily packed as she had left her farmhouse. The child was laid in
the makeshift coffin and carried to her grave. Months
passed and the War ended. Marie and the boys said a last farewell at the
graveyard and set off for home. The burnt out ruins of the farmhouse
provided no shelter but they retrieved the few treasures they had
buried and set about starting their lives again. There was no word
from Mr Griessel – but cordial letters were exchanged between
Marie and Captain Soudy. Word finally came that Mr Griessel had died in
the war and Captain Soudy paid a visit. Shortly after that he carried Marie off as his bride to start a new life near Graaff Reinet - Ann Raats is their granddaughter - so a Boer War story with a sad beginning did have a joyful end.
__________________________________
July 2004 A Karoo Tale: The Caveman of Prince Albert Few people know about the
“Caveman” of Prince Albert. Marie Kruger, a long-time resident of
Prince Albert, compiled a book of memories for her grandchildren, among
which is her tale of Hendrick Rheerders: During the 1930’s Hendrick, a
quiet, reclusive man, moved into a cave near Eerstewater, at the entrance
to the Swartberg Pass. He lived very simply and believed everyone should
work hard, so every day he collected kindling and took it through to
Prince Albert to sell. The few pennies he made paid for
his food and a little tobacco and any left over were collected in an old
tin. When the tin was full he would take it to Tant Hannie Kruger,
Marie’s mother, a kindly soul who helped him open a post office account,
and since it was his wish, to buy a grave-plot in the cemetery. The years passed – Hendrick
continued to sell kindling and live in his little cave. Tant Hannie kept a
weather-eye on him and applied for a disability pension on his behalf –
it was granted, “on condition that Mrs Kruger administer the funds”.
Hendrick couldn’t have been in better hands. Tant Hannie had a couple of
baskets made and once a week she would buy his groceries, making sure he
always had some nice dates or sweets and a tin of his favourite fish.
Hendrick would collect his groceries and carry them home in his basket,
leaving the empty one for the following week’s shopping. If he forgot,
Tant Hannie and her husband Dirk would clamber up to his little cave and
make sure he was alright. From time to time Hendrick would
be fitted out with new clothes – but before he could try on anything at
Oom Sor’s shop he had to have his hair cut, have a shave and take a bath
in the zinc bath! He would head home in his neat new clothes and the next
week trundle into town with his old, work-worn trousers over the new pair! Tant Hannie grew older and was
taken ill. She worried over what would become of Hendrick. After
consulting her neighbours, Oom Christie Vlok and his wife, she drew up a
will stating that Hendrick was to live with them, for she knew they would
love and care for him. As Tant Hannie lay dying
Hendrick would come to visit – with tales of strangers who had visited
him in the night, no-one could make head nor tail of it, and then one day
he announced that he had built a gateway to heaven – his very own gate,
just for him, but one other person could use it – and that was Tant
Hannie. Marie remembered his grief when he visited her mother in her
sickroom and knew the end was near. Soon the day came, Tant Hannie
used Hendrick’s gateway to heaven and he moved into town – but the
Zwarteberge called and he soon headed back to Eerstewater. When someone
stole his few small possessions from his cave he was heart-broken. Dr van
Wyk, the local GP, realised
that for his own safety Hendrick would have to be placed in care, so he
sent him off to the Stickland Asylum where, a few years later, he passed
away. The asylum wanted to bury
Hendrick in a pauper’s grave – but the Kruger family weren’t having
that! They brought him home to Prince Albert and he was laid to rest near
his dear Tant Hannie Kruger, beneath the watchful eye of the mountains in
which he had lived and worked and which he loved so well. When next you visit Prince
Albert, rise early one morning and take a walk along the Swartberg Pass
road. As the sun kisses the tips of the mountain and caresses the grass
along the verges, as crystal bird calls greet the new day, think of
Hendrick Rheerders sitting outside his little cave, feasting on the
beauty. No pauper he – with all this and Tant Hannie’s motherly love,
no man could have been richer. __________________________ June 2004
A Karoo Tale: George Rainier Prince Albert’s main road, Kerkstraat, is lined with Eucalyptus trees. Many still provide shade, others bear the scars of severe lopping and stand like tired sentries, their war-weary battledress tattered and torn, a mere shadow of their former selves. These trees were planted by an illustrious resident of Prince Albert who contributed their shade and an even greater gift to the village – but we must head back to the 1880’s to hear the tale: In
those days some 900 people lived in this peaceful community. Jan Luttig
was the MP for the Beaufort West district and Mr George Rainier was the
Civil Commissioner and Resident Magistrate of Prince Albert. The main route from the Great Karoo to the harbour at Mossel Bay was through Meiringspoort. In 1858 the first wool wagons travelled the newly completed road through the poort, but heavy rain, flash floods and rock falls put it out of commission on a fairly regular basis and in 1875 it was closed for weeks. Over a hundred wool wagons with their drivers and oxen camped on the river banks near Klaarstroom, waiting for the road to be repaired. Another route was desperately needed – one that would remain open even when Meiringspoort was shut. Magistrate
George Rainier believed such a road could be built across the Swartberg range,
so every weekend he would set out on horseback to find a route over the
mountains and in 1879, two and a
half years before construction began on the Swartberg Pass, the Divisional
Council of Prince Albert constructed a bridle-path from the village to
Oudsthoorn. The Oudtshoorn Courant of 6th August 1879 reported: ‘
... the work in Rainier’s Pass is progressing favourably.’ It was George Rainier who persuaded a sceptical Jan Luttig to raise funds from the Cape Parliament for Thomas Bain to survey the mountains and establish whether a road could be built. Once construction started on the Pass, Rainier inspected the workers’ camp at Eerstewater every week. Before
he took up his next appointment at Ceres, George planted the Eucalyptus
trees, which grace Kerkstraat and the present picnic site at Eerstewater.
On the 10th of February 1888 those trees watched a grand
procession leave Prince Albert for the work station at the top of the
pass. George Rainier was among the distinguished guests who
attended the official opening of the Swartberg Pass, which might well have been
named after him had he not moved
from the district during its construction. So our fine old blue gum trees owe their presence to George Rainier and though time and modern construction have taken their toll, they remain as a tribute to the man who dreamed of a route across the mountains and who saw the Swartberg Pass become reality.
__________________________________
May 2004
A Karoo Tale: A Prince Albert Ghost Story – of sorts During April I took a
group of children on the Ghost Walk with their parents. We had a very
special evening, they were delightful youngsters who asked lots of
questions and had many theories about the local ghosts. They were all
intrigued with the Museum Ghost and the next day one of the Dads took them
to investigate. They had obviously been talking about the Ghost Walk and
as they arrived at the Museum the father dug Jonathan, our curator, in the
ribs and quietly said “Play along!” Jonathan wondered what was
coming… One of the lads asked.
“Is there someone called Ailsa in the town?” “No,” said
Jonathan, “I’ve never heard that name, it’s an unusual name isn’t
it?” The children exchanged
glances, “Well, is there someone who takes people on Ghost Walks?” “No,” said
Jonathan, “not that I know of, what a good idea, perhaps we should start
one!” “There,” said one
of the children, “I told you she was a ghost!” “I’ve been thinking
about it,” said another, “did anyone touch her?” The little
group considered this and decided no-one had. “Imagine if you
had,” said the father, “perhaps your hand would have gone right
through her!” They nodded wisely and
asked Jonathan to show them the ghost’s room. Each of the children
walked through the room on their own to see if they could feel anything!
Meanwhile Jonathan was dying to get to the phone to let me know what had
happened. When they left the Museum one bright spark in the group said, “Let’s go and ask the lady at the Tourism Office.” So they all traipsed in to ask Charlotte if there was a Ghost Walk. Father stood behind them, waving his hands in warning. “No,” said Charlotte, “not that I know of, but what a good idea, perhaps we should start one!” …
Love poem mystery On Tuesday 29th June I related the story of a love poem on the SAFM program "Otherwise". The poem was found in a family Bible in Prince Albert. If you can throw any light on either William Scott or Anna de Vries I would be delighted to hear from you! Here's the story as it appeared in our local newspaper, the Prince Albert Friend: During March Leon de Wit popped into the Library with a poem he and his family had discovered in their family Bible. Written in copperplate on a flimsy piece of paper the poem was composed in 1849 by William Scott and is addressed to Anna de Vries: Lines
written to Miss Anna Cornelia De Vries . Zwarte Berg 3rd June 1849 What is the blooming tincture of the skin To Peace of mind and harmony within What the bright sparkling of the finest eye To the soft soothing of a calm reply Can comeliness of form, or shape or air With comeliness of words, or deeds compare No! – those at first the unwary heart may gain But these, these only can the heart retain Anna Written by Wm Scott 3rd June 1849 Who was Anna? Does anyone know anything about William Scott – wouldn’t it be marvellous to know more about their romance – did they wed? If anyone has any information please contact Ailsa at 023 5411 211.
___________________________ For more about The Story Weaver contact Ailsa at Tel:
023 5411 211
|