Are these piles of rocks in the Richtersveld (about two or three kms from the Orange River) ancient rock sites or the products of the urge of successive modern visitors to keep adding to the assemblage without any idea why? I suspect it’s the latter. Still, whether ancient or modern, the impetus to mark a territory, to strengthen the sense of place – and what a place it is!- is common, part of our humanity.
Driving back through the Akkedis Pass in the Richtersveld, I was intent on spotting a halfmens which despite all efforts had eluded me the first time through. When I saw a spiky silhouette on top of this rocky ridge, I shouted out, insisted on a stop and scrambled up the rough slope to shake hands with my first halfmens…except this shy little mens had no arms, his cabbage head was soft and vulnerable and overhung with frilly teenage locks and even his spiky torso was not nearly as sharp as it looked but kind of rubbery and tender. I had expected to be confronted by a machismo presence based on a biological response to the unbelievably dry, inhospitable environment but there was such sweetness there, such a core of softness, I was immensely moved. A real mensch, as my granny would say.
On the road to Perdekloof, near Kamieskroon, 29 March…thanks to Ducky Booker ( “same as the literary prize”) and Lita Cole ( “like a liter coke”) for taking us to this magical piece of land all decked out in mad pink balls. Never knew that there is a second flower season in these parts in autumn. Psst, pray don’t tell (although the brunsvigias are doing a good job of it themselves: positively blaring).
Returning from this mammoth two and a half month trip to Namibia and Botswana and the furthest reaches of South Africa, what do I have to offer you in my first attempt to report back? This, an advertisement for nothing more than what you find in front of you, be it boring or spectacular. Aspire to nothing more than being present every single moment, or not, as you choose.
Following the red threads squiggling all across the map, digging up dirt, unearthing snips of succulents, ostrich shell beads on a string.
What does this mean?
It means that we are on our way again on a two and a bit month expedition making books and camping, camping and making books. Up north to the Richtersveld, over the pont at Sendelingfdrift, into Namibia, Luderitz and north into more desert to Tsumeb to make book 1, then northeast into the Caprivi strip, along that, pop into Zim to see the falls and then when we reach the top of our trajectory, down like a stone, south to Nata and across salt pans to Maun where book number 2 is planned. And then? And then we’ll see…Jhb to see the folks, Augrabies? We’ll see…
What will we see?
Lots.
Farewell