It takes the diversity of South Africa for me to realise … I am such a snob!
Countless experiences, five weeks, three adventures, two different sports, two provinces, but only one family during one school holiday – only in Southern Africa!
It all began with a refined, glamorous, Cinderella – type ball, in a glass topped marquis surrounded by glittering fairy lights, scrumptious gourmet food, matured well-rounded wines, entertaining company and engaging entertainment. It was the Clifton 80thBall. Celebrating 80 years in educating the young in the Natal Midlands. The last outpost was in serious “booga mina” (English / Zulu for “look at me”) and “op skou” (English / Afrikaans” for “on show”) mode and we all loved it. Some of those dance moves came out of the closet from the 1980’s and believe me that is where they belong … I am still nursing my a dodgey hip as a result of all the boogeying. All I am grateful for, is that my OF (off spring/ three boys) did not have to watch that. It was such great fun and if anyone happens to find my name lying around the beautiful fields of Clifton maybe you can bring it back to me ….. I have a feint memory of a Dirty Dancing swan dive into the arms of an aging and not so strong Patrick Swayze and some Waka Waka moves that would make Shakira jealous ….. showing my age much?
Then a 360 degree turn to a rugby festival in Krugersdorp … yip … The Cradle of Humankind. We experienced a mixture of accommodation trying to sample as much of the Cradle as possible. We spent two nights at a retreat, star gazing (yip Eskom with their load shedding was very present), simple, and stunning … one night at a boutique hotel which was blingey and busy, with the aircon stuck on 20 degrees, and the film crew came complimentary, and two nights at a lodge with the most spectacular view through a kloof (English / Afrikaans for a rocky valley). On the Friday morning we were greeted to a still calm morning with frost thick on the ground, mist in the valley, “steam” rising off the fishing dams, and two giant hot air balloons rising into the sky above the Cradle. Absolutely beautiful.
The rugby festival was the U13 Craven Week with teams from all over our country. You have the people from “up North” where chicken is a vegetable, the parents are studied to determine the genetic make up of the young boy, barefoot rugby has been played since the child was 3 years old and the coach / manager of the side is a middle aged man on the verge of hypertension and high cholesterol. On the other side of the spectrum, you have the team from “down Durban way”. We had the most athletic looking, most diverse and youngest coaching / management team who shouted encouragement and practiced positive reinforcement. And of course, we had a range of teams in-between.
Following a quick turn around from that, with just enough time to do the washing and check on the happenings on the farm … burn a few fire breaks (some obedient and some more free spirited) and send our family car into the garage – we set off on our BIG family reunion to Mozambique …
Our journey to get to the border post into Mozambique was a logistical feat on its own. With 6 vaccination certificates, five legs to our journey, two hitchhikers (family members picked up en route) two vehicles (the not-very- new-and-very-well-used-cab-and-a-half farm bakkie and the four-seater rental) we made it in time to reach the border post and entered into Mozambique. After which all six of us squashed into the farm bakkie bouncing along the sandy tracks to join the other family.
After 6 days of Mozambique being Mozambique (which is perfect in our eyes) we headed back into South Africa. Once again, we found ourselves at the opposite end of the diversity spectrum. Our OOF (Oldest Offspring) compared the public facilities at the road stop in Hluhluwe with the facilities he experiences daily in cosmopolitan Cape Town. Somehow rustic facilities in Mozam are fine but once back in SA don’t quite cut it? There is a difference between rustic and down right disgusting.
Once back to the midlands our cultural diversity experience continued … as we then attended a hockey festival at Michaelhouse .… yip …. A leading, private, independent, boys, boarding school in the Natal Midlands. (and a place I love …) Here I could breathe a sigh of relief … yay my tribe. The local bakery selling coffee, friends watching and encouraging school sport, green grass under the canopy of the oak trees. Almost a full circle to “the last outpost”. I am such a snob!
Pink Farm Chick 