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 marquee surrounded by glittering fairy lights, scrumptious gourmet food, aged well-rounded wines, entertaining company and engaging
entertainment. It was the Clifton Notties Ball.
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 a dodgy hip as a result of all
the boogying. All I am grateful for, is that my OS (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), peaceful, and
stunning (www.farmhouse58.co) … one
night at a boutique hotel which was blingy and busy, with the aircon stuck on
20 degrees, and the film crew coming 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. Silent and graceful as they floated away down the valley.
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 makeup 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 turnaround, 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 Mozambique. After
which all six of us squashed into the farm bakkie bouncing along the sandy
tracks …. We took out the full insurance.
for the hired car and booked it in for the week under a tree at the
border.
After 6 days of Mozambique being Mozambique (which is perfect in our eyes)
we headed back into South Africa. Picked up the little four-seater at the
border and headed home
through KZN. 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 downright 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 familiar faces. 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 