LIFE TIME OF SERVICE HONOURED

Prince Albert’s Dr Richard Dean was recently honoured for a life time of service to ornithology. The prestigious Gill Memorial Medal, awarded only when a deserving candidate is identified, was presented to him by Rick Nuttall, president of BirdLife South Africa at the association’s annual general meeting in Phalaborwa. Rick praised Richard’s dedication, pioneering research and willingness to assist students, youngsters entering the field, researchers, conservation biologists and birders in general Richard entered the field of ornithology from the printing industry in the 1970s when he was commissioned to undertake a field study project in Angola on behalf of a North American Museum. On completion of the project he accepted a post as research officer and nature reserve manager in the then Transvaal Department of Nature Conservation Ten years later he moved to Prince Albert as senior research officer and manager at Tierberg Karoo Research Station, 30 km east of Prince Albert and held this post till he retired in 2005. Richard and his wife, Sue Milton, have done much meaningful research in the fields of biology, ecology and ornithology for The Percy Fitzpatrick Institute of African Ornithology and the universities of Cape Town and Stellenbosch. Richard and Sue have also hosted a wide range of educational and research programmes. A recent, on-going project, which involved studying the effects of desertification caused by poor farming, over-grazing, ploughing and mining, has revealed that birds and plants not only sustain the Karoo, but also help to repair it.

“KRUIDTJIE” NOW OUT IN ENGLISH

Antoinette Pienaar’s book, Kruidtjie Roer My Nie, has been translated into English and is now available as The Griqua’s Apprentice. In it she tells the fascinating story of her journey to health and her quest to learn how to use the Karoo’s ancient healing herbs. This Carnarvon-born cabaret star and well-known Beaufort West resident, arrived on the doorstep of Oom Johannes Willemse, suffering from cerebral malaria. The disease had defeated doctors, yet this trusted herbalist and healer, cured her. He said he had been dreaming of her coming for 40 years. When she was well enough, she moved to the farm Theefontein, with dogs, cats and her red diesel bakkie, named Dapper, so that he could teach her of herbs and the language of the veld. As she stepped from her vehicle at his cottage, he said: “So, at last, you are here.” That was seven years ago. Antoinette is now well; her body and soul function in perfect harmony. The Griqua’s Apprentice, published by Umuzi, brings the smells, sights and sounds of the ancient Karoo to life, as Antoinette tells of her journey to health. The book allows the reader to feel her pain and exultation of her healing. Antoinette now also discusses herbs on a Friday afternoon radio programme.

GETTING CLOSER TO KAROO PLANTS

Delegates at a recent workshop in Loxton were asked to identify about 70 Karoo plants. They had the greatest fun reports Reda Potts of the Endangered Wildlife Trust Riverine Rabbit Working Group, who with Grootfontein Agricultural Institute in Middelburg, organised the workshop. Several experts were on hand to help. They included Lorraine van der Berg and Minette van Lingen, from Grootfontein, who collected the specimens, John Bekker-Smith, an expert from Boshoek and Fanie Avenant from Victoria Wes, whose speciality is bulbous plants of the Karoo. The workshop was held at The Blue House and owner, Lindsay Juby, provided tasty, typical Karoo dishes to entertain delegates. A highlight of the workshop was a visit to the RRWG indigenous nursery on the outskirts of Loxton. Here delegates could to study plants such as Koggelmandervoetkaroo (Limeum aethiopicum), a seldom seen, widely grazed plant that takes its strange names from its leaves which resemble the hands of a cameleon. They also saw cambro, Fockea sinuata, a plant with leathery leaves and a large underground potato-like tuber, once so widely used to make a syrupy preserve, and bruinsafraan, (Jamesbrittenia atropurpurea) a plant which the Voortrekkers used to dye linen and leather.

A ROAD LIKE A FLIGHT OF STAIRS

The first route across the Outeniqua Mountains and into the Karoo was so rough that it was called Duiwelskloof Passageway. In Looking Back on George Chris O Sayers says it lay to the east of present-day Saasveld Forestry Station, and first crossed in 1775. “Spaarman used this route and described it as very bad. Twelve years later Earl MacCartney’s Secretary, John Barrow crossed from the Longkloof side and said it took 16 oxen to draw the wagon over this pass, which was dreadfully steep, stoney and scarcely 15 paces wide at the top. Parts of this route, he said were like a flight of stairs with steps 4 ft high. At these the wagon had to be lifted up by brute force.” Others who used this “passageway” were Francois le Vaillant and Governor Joachim von Plettenberg, in 1779. “He called it the Schoonberg or Duiwelskop Pass and said it rose from the farm, Louvain, 3150 ft up a kloof, to the crest if the Outeniqua Mountains. According to him this route was crossed with great difficulty. Gangs of 20 men had to lift the wagons round sharp bends. From the summit it went two miles west and down a ridge to Branekraal. Old wheel marks can still clearly be seen on this farm and its neighbour, Witdraai.” Sayers also mentions Cradock Pass, only 5 ½ miles long, but so bad that it took a wagon three days to cross. One military officer said it was difficult even for a man on horse back to ride across this pass, leave along for a wagon to descend. “It deteriorated badly after the Xhosa War of 1835 and in 1836 Charles Mitchell recommended an entirely new road. Work started in 1844 and finished in 1847. Henry Fancourt White came from Australia to supervise construction. “Montagu Pass was also 5 ½ miles long, but it’s ascent was graded, and wagons went through within an hour.”

LIFE ON THE OPEN ROAD

In the early days travellers of the rugged routes to the interior had many a strange experience. Way back in the mid-1800s a few families from Port Elizabeth travelled together to Cradock to attend the foundation stone laying ceremony at the Dutch Reformed Church. In Reminiscences of Cradock Mrs Hill, an early resident of the town, recounts a story told by her mother. “At 07h00 most people in the group were hungry, so we outspanned for breakfast, but we were short of bread. ‘No problem,’ said one of the mothers, ‘we’ll make some vetkoek in the three-legged pot.’ The children were sent off to collect wood, while she prepared the dough.” A fire was made, the fat heated in the pot and soon the delicious aroma of fresh vetkoek filled the air. “Suddenly the oxen started bellowing. There were eight teams and it was a fearsome sound. The animals were obviously terrified. Then there was a sound like thunder and a gush of wind as a herd of elephants suddenly stampeded through the campsite. “They trampled everything, knocked into the wagons and upset the three-legged pot. The fat flowed into the fire causing a great blaze. Nearby trees caught fire and before anyone could move a wagon was ablaze. Women screamed, children cried, and men frantically beat at the flames in an effort to douse them. They did and slowly calm returned, but everyone was badly shaken. The wagons were quickly re-loaded, and the pilgrims set off again. Breakfast was the furthest thing from their minds.”

DON’T PUT YOUR EGGS IN ONE BASKET, BE A ‘BOER’ MAKE A PLAN

A Cradock resident, out for a ride near Voselers Kloof one day, came across an unattended nest full of ostrich eggs. He longed to take some home – he knew his wife would be delighted – but had nothing in which to carry them, said an early resident, Mrs Peiterson, in Reminiscences of Cradock. “The man was also well aware that he would have to hurry because the ostriches might be back at any second. So, he quickly stripped off his trousers, tied a knot at the end of each leg, then filled these with eggs and slung the unusual carrier across the back of his horse. He remounted and “with naked nether regions showing to the world,” proudly rode home with his booty.”

TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL SPIRIT!

Wool was washed at many places throughout the Great Karoo before it was sent off to the coast. This was obviously done to lighten the load and prevent too much sand and debris being carted down to the coast. At some places the water from the wool washing plants was saved, because it contained soap. “Women allowed it to stand until the sand and debris and sunk to the bottom, them scooped off the soapy water, re-heated it and used it to do their own general household washing,” said Mr Gilfillan in Reminiscences of Cradock. “Those who used this recycled water had to be careful, however, because the girls at the washing plants often threw pins, needles and beads into the water before they started work to placate the water spirit with something bright and new, or to ‘poke it in the eye’ and to stop it from attacking them, pulling them into the water and perhaps even drowning them,” he said.

SNUFF – IT’S DANGEROUS STUFF!

While out on patrol one warm January night in 1838 Captain Adair of the Cape Mounted Rifles dismounted to answer a call of nature, enjoy the evening air and a sniff of snuff. This was a fateful decision. It cost him his life. Shortly before dismounting Adair had fired off one barrel of his shotgun, reports The Grahamstown Journal of January 25, 1838. He placed the rifle butt on the ground and covered the muzzle with hand so as to prevent it from falling. He then leant slightly forward and inclined his head pinch of snuff. There was a loud explosion. The second barrel fired “for some unexplained reason” and the charge hit Adair between the eyes, shattering his face and scalp. His horse, as horses do, found its way back to Fort Brown. A search party was sent out and they were horrified to discover his remains. “The deceased, also formerly an officer the 72nd Highlanders, was in the prime of life and highly esteemed by his brother officers, most of whom attended his funeral, said the newspaper report.

WATER, WONDERFUL WATER

Bowlers inspecting the Modder East Green after a cloudburst, had a rather rude surprise. The severe downpour had flooded the green, turning it into a lake. Unbeknown to this committee Pagel’s Circus had just set up camp in a nearby open lot after a hot, dry tour through the Karoo, which was in the grips of a drought. All the circus folk turned out to enjoy the storm’s tail-end drizzle. That was until the elephants smelled the water. They stampeded out of the camp, through a fence and onto the green where they started wallowing about and squirting water over themselves, and generally up into the air, reports S A Bowling Magazine of January 1946. The inspection committee fled, so did the Indian in charge of the greens. The elephant trainer arrived with his assistants and a few short sharp whistles was all it took to get the animals under control and meekly walking back towards the circus tents. No one seems to have reported on the state of the greens after the water drained away!

TINIEST ‘THIEVES’ HIT THE FOOD STORE

In January 1940, the world war was at war and food was scarce. Beaufort West’s Katryn van Heerden (nee du Plessis), says: “Times were hard, petrol scarce and our parents, who lived on a farm 60 km from town, could only fetch from us from the school hostel on special weekends. These visits, needless to say, were absolute highlights. We longed to see our parents and looked forward to the delicious homemade snacks and goodies my mother always brought from the farm. In those days there were no ‘fridges, nor insect-proof storage cupboards, so we always packed our food onto the kitchen table and placed its legs into clean shoe polish tins filled with water. The worst threat to our treasured taste treats was not the heat nor thieves, but little black ants. They seemed to be able to find the tiniest morsels. No one dared to leave food, cakes or cookies for even a second, it seemed, before they found it and caused chaos, but our little ‘moats’ kept our food safe. The ants could not cross the water. One fateful Saturday the family rose and crept to the kitchen all looking forward to a delicious breakfast that only my mother could make. We stopped in horror in the kitchen doorway, stunned by the sight that met out eyes. In front of us the table holding all our food supplies seemed alive. It was a writhing mass of tiny black ants. A tiny wisp of cotton had somehow fallen across one of the “moats” and created a bridge from the tin to the leg of the table. This was all the little tiny demons needed. They must have streamed up the table leg all night because it was a sea of ants. We had no alternative but to bundle up all our food and throw it away. Breakfast that day consisted of shop bread and butter. I was so disappointed, I wept. I have hated little black ants with a vengeance ever since.”

A TARGET ANYWAY – COLOURFUL OR SMELLY

In the late 1700s Cape Colonial soldiers were “disinclined to do battle in brilliant red uniforms”. A report in The Dukes, A History Of The Duke Of Edinburgh’s Own Rifles says they felt bright red made them stand out and too clear a target. So, a new field dress was devised for burghers and volunteers in the Colony. Made up in “farmer’s yellow” it comprised a corduroy jacket, corduroy or cord trousers, leather leggings, thick boots and a large, hard, broad-brimmed felt hat, often adorned with a distinctive feather or coloured pugaree. But there was a problem. The chemicals used in the preparation of the corduroy gave off an awful and sustained odour. Critics of the new battle dress said the enemy would now be able to smell the Colonials just as easily as they previously saw them, thus the enemy would be doubly blessed. Despite this problem the outfits were made and issued on the battlefields.

THE KAROO COOKBOOK GOES TO SECOND PRINT

The Karoo Cookbook is being reprinted. The second edition will be available in August, so those who are still on the look out for a copy will now be able to buy one. So many have enjoyed this book and I am often stopped in town to be told how much joy it has brought to someone. Mostly people have loved the tasty, down-to-earth recipes and little historic snippets, from journals of early travellers, such as Le Vaillant. He considered cambro to be a precious fruit “because the root of this bulbous plant is a food and a thirst quencher”. Lichtenstein, who described many dishes said while food nearer the Cape was more lavish, he was often profusely entertained at Hex River Kloof, “it often appeared as if our hosts were desirous of making amends at a single meal for the privations we had suffered in the Karoo.”

I’D RATHER HAVE A CUP OF TEA!

On a trip through the Eastern Cape Thomas Pringle once stopped at Elands River in the Tarka Valley to see Wentzel Coetzer, the nearest neighbour of the Scots at Glen Lynden. The old man had been enjoying a nap, but he rose with alacrity and instantly offered Pringle a “sopie” (wee dram) of his own peach brandy. Pringle said it tasted like very bad whisky, and so told Coetzer’s wife he preferred a cup of strong black tea without sugar.

WHAT A BARGAIN!

James Douglass Logan paid £400 for 80 000 morgen of land between Touws River and Laingsburg and there, in a beautiful valley against a backdrop of mountains, created his beloved Matjiesfontein. Ever the entrepreneur he built a hotel and by 1884 had a contract Gibson and Red Star coaches to stop at his village. At the time it was little more than tin shacks next to the railway line. “Wanting to ensure that this place would be the best on the route inland he imported both materials and labour,” says D A Picton-Seymour in Victorian Buildings of South Africa. “Oregon pines came from Canada for the floors, beautiful, intricate ceilings and other fittings were selected from MacFarlane and Bayliss catalogues and ordered from Britain. Workmen arrived from Scotland and Ireland and work started almost immediately on The Milner Hotel. Until it was finished guests stayed in a four-roomed guest house. The original station was on the opposite side of the railway line to where the buildings stand today. The present station was built in 1893.”

HAILSTORM STOPPED LIQUOUR PRODUCTION

A severe hailstorm hit Cradock early in January 1837 leaving “vineyards and orchards in a deplorable state”. The Grahamstown Journal of January 3, 1837, reported that The Temperance Society was rejoicing because “damage done by the hail will prevent brandy and wine makers from producing their wares this season”. The storm lasted for almost an hour and hailstones, according to one resident, were three to the pound. The noise of the approaching storm was so terrifying that villagers fled into their homes and huts and saving themselves from broken heads, said the newspaper. There was an amusing side. “The main street, low and hollow in the centre, was entirely under water and as soon as the rain stopped ducks, geese and waterfowl started swimming there in admired disorder,” wrote the reporter. “The houses are much shattered, and it will take time before the village once again looks respectable.”

EARLY FORGERS FLED INTO THE KAROO

The wagon route to Carnarvon wound through Schietfonteinspoort, which some called Kareeberge-poort, and past a lonely grave. This is the grave of Carel Kruger, or Krieger, once a veldwachtmeester of the Roggeveld. Together with his brother Jacob, he forged a large sum of money in the late 1700s. The two went to Cape Town and bought supplies with this, but their scam was discovered, and they were arrested. They escaped and fled northwards into the Great Karoo. Nevertheless, in their absence they were sentenced – Carel to hang and his brother to 15 years with hard labour. They paid no heed and for years evaded the law. They wandered among the Korannas, fighting, stealing and generally living a hand to mouth existence. People of the area called them “the fearless nimrods,” writes M C Kitshoff in Kudde van Carnarvon. Then one day while out on a hunting trip in 1791, Carel shot and wounded an elephant. The enraged animal turned, charged and trampled Carel to death. Jacob, who was later granted amnesty, buried Carel’s remains right there and neatly packed Karoo stones on his grave. It became a landmark. Borcherds refers to it as Krugersfontein, Lichtenstein, called it Graffontein and others refer to it either as Karelsgraf or Kriegersgraf.

Experience enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

Franklin P. Jones