OMG what a mix of emotions culminating in exhaustion and disbelief …
On Monday morning we woke up to another very cold but beautiful energy giving Madikwe sun rise and a game drive in the south African bush, aware that we had a big day driving ahead (we had planned the 9 hour return drive home) but our family bush break has been worth it so we were ready for reality: girlfriends wanting their piece of our boys time, home on-line schooling (with the constant fight of screen time vs farm / family / outside time), constant farm needs and “putting out fires”, and farm financial gymnastics – to continue.
It was during our rushed breakfast (we wanted to be on the road by 8:30) that the messages started coming through that the roads in KZN were a no-go zone with rioting and looters starting to gain momentum. I was under the miss-impression that this unrest would lose momentum as soon as the looters became sleep deprived and needed to sleep off the party goods they had looted from the shops. Our trip home started with absolutely no adventure- the roads up north are wide, straight, clear and pot-hole free, we passed the normal Monday morning. People going on with their daily routines, we filled up with fuel and got some take way coffee and sustenance for the trip ….
We planned our route to scurt JHB central by going on the concrete highway, and heading down to KZN on the start of the N3 planning to branch off before Harrismith and taking back roads into the province. We planned to sneak back into KZN using all our knowledge of back roads and old passes to traverse down the berg – I felt like a Voortrekker ! I did have a silent thanks for the road trips us ladies have taken over the years allowing us all to expand our knowledge of these …. (look at previous story https://pinkfarmchick.wordpress.com/2017/08/09/639/)
We drove on the N3 from JHB to Harrismith and the highway – always crowded with trucks and travellers, the main transport route between the coast and the big hub of JHB – was deserted and had a very apcolyptic feelings surrounding it. We felt like an unsuspecting impala about to walk into a pride of lions or that person in the movies exploring a deserted warehouse at night about to walk into the liar of a serial killer and all the while you sit at home shouting at the TV “no – stop – turn back “but these shouts soon change to “dumb arse – d@#k head “.
It was at the bottom of Oliviers Hoek pass that things turned hairy. Full of bravado with my standard motto of “fortune favours the brave” we bumped into the first of four barricades. Manned by a chanting mob of local rural residents, smoke from the burning tyres and surrounding small veld fire, rocks strewn on the road, side barriers pulled across the road and broken glass EVERYWHERE it was like a scene from “Mad Max” On an aside I have been thinking a lot of Mad Max lately from supply runs (grocery shopping) through to the farm patrols the HF has to carry out, alone. The hierarchy at these blockades was obvious. The leader approached our car. He was a chubby elderly man with friendly eyes red from lack of sleep with a hoarse voice. He had been manning the barricade for hours now and he just wanted us to pay a toll for safe passage through. He was non-violent and through the small gap in the open window the HF felt he was to be trusted. It was only when several other men started advancing on the car that we all started to feel really uneasy and threated to halt the whole thing, not pay the money and retreat back into the OFS. At this the leader started shouting to the men to retreat and open the blockade. HF handed over the hot cash and we slowly went through the blockade and carried on our way breathing a collective sigh of relief. It was interesting because we had chatted to a traveller a little earlier who had passed through easily and it had only cost him 25% of our toll fee. It seems that who you were and what you were driving defined your “toll fee”.
We went through three further blockades with a similar story and outcome. Only during one of the blockades did we feel threatened from the approach through to the passing, and that was when a younger man with glassy eyes and very far away stare tried to open the passenger door, and when another group asked for more “toll fees” because all they wanted was money to buy something to drink and R50 was not enough! By the time we got to Bergville our nerves were frayed and talking (and even fighting between the OOs and the YOS had stopped) was at an all time low in the car. The rest of our trip home was relatively event-less, the most stressful part of the journey was watching all the what up clips coming through showing the looting that was rife all over KZN and spilling further afield. We felt spat out onto our farm road and arrived home tired but safe.
The week that followed was then the start of the roller coaster of emotions that would culminate into the total exhaustion and disbelief we feel today.
For me it was a week of food insecurity. Supply runs took on a life of their own – becoming a full time job, taking hours out of the day – leaving me exhausted and downright sad …. Farm admin and bookwork took a serious back seat as I was focused on feeding my family.
The HF turned into the farm patrol and all round protector – a lone wolf patrolling his turf. This while still trying to run our enterprise and fix the eternal repairs and maintenance that a farm is never without. On top of this HF burnt a few extra fire breaks to try and secure the farm from arson attacks. Every milk collection was a major relief and a quick motivational check in with the the truck driver, an occasion. Everyone was on edge and this was highlighted on Thursday evening (8:30pm) when HF got a call from a flustered depot, they had just received a frantic phone call from the milk truck driver in which they could only make out “about to hit me …” HF rushed out not knowing what to expect. Only to find, the centre pivot was about to cross the road. The driver had only seen this at the last moment and was now back into a corner with the ever advancing centre pivot about to hit him. Some fast thinking diverted a certain tragedy of squashed milk tanker and buckled pivot …. A very cold and wet HF arrived back home much later that evening.
Pink Farm Chick 