pgjonker.co.za

Kgalagadi tour

By PG Jonker

Background

In 1999 I took the family for a tour to the Kgalagadi Game Reserve.  I took my mother-in-law along too.  I thought it might be a good idea to introduce her to the renowned Kgalagadi lions, if you catch my drift.  However, we did not see a single lion, and my mother-in-law is still around.  Four years later we did the tour again, this time without my mother-in-law, as by then we had a third kiddo on the back seat. 

The first item that we packed this time was a 25 liter can of water.  It is amazing the thirst that takes hold of you the moment you realize that the salty water is not drinkable.  Then, suddenly, you don’t want a soda.  No, then you want pure, clear water!

My wife read somewhere that it is a good idea to take play balls along on a trip like this.  It is good for the kids.  So she duly complied.  At Vanrhynsdorp, exactly 301km’s away from home, we make our first stop at the fuel station, took out our breakfast, and played ball.  However, if you are only 19 months old you don’t always grasp the rules of the game.  So the moment he saw a ball rolling, Chris-Jan would give chase, confiscate the ball whilst shouting “ballie, ballie, ballie,” and then refuse anyone access to said ball.

We travelled through Calvinia with its massive post box, but decided to take the ‘been there dunnit’ picture on our return trip.  Sadly, I have to report that we neglected to do that on the way back as well. 

At Brandvlei we stopped for petrol, and had lunch at Die Windpomp restaurant, adjacent to the Boesmanland Instap.  The menu at Die Windpomp boasted that it was the best pump in town……

Due to a power failure we could not get the Full Monty, but nevertheless had an extremely decent meal of hamburgers and coffee.  You can catch my wife and me in a trap with good coffee.

From here we travelled further to the North.  This is Boesmanland.  It is a harsh world and I have endless respect for the farmers who make a living here.  There are very few cars on the road, which might not be a bad thing, because the occupants of every single car greet you as they drive past.

We drove through Kenhardt (it looks a bit like Brandvlei, I thought), with Keimoes the next town.  What a beautiful green place.  And just as you think you have passed through the dorp, there is a board that says: “Keimoes 4km”. 

At Upington we rented a bungalow in Die Eiland holiday resort.  With the sun setting our son, then 11 years old, came to call us very excited to come and see the fairy.  Amazing.  I did not know fairies existed anymore.  It turned out, though that he meant the ferry that does sundowner trips from the Upington hotel, which is just across the river from Die Eiland.  But it was a fair mistake, I’d say.  With all the lights on the ferry one could easily mistake it for a fairy.

After we had all the kids clean and ready for bed we found exhibit “A” in the bath, that clearly indicated that the youngest of our kids did somewhat more than just passed a flatulent in the tub.

Last leg to Kgalagadi

The next day we hit the road for the last 255km’s to the Kgalagadi.  The last about 80km’s was extremely bad corrugated gravel road. I understand this road has since been tarred.  It was a relief to reach the gate at Tweerivieren (Two Rivers).

 Reporting at the office with 19-months old Chris-Jan was rather entertaining.  Against the walls there were a number of pictures of Kgalagadi lions.  Chris-Jan would storm up to the picture and shout:  “It’s a ‘whau!’”.

Having had our trial run with our new camping equipment on our Calitzdorp trip, we managed to pitch our tents without much of a problem.  After setting up camp at the Tweerivieren camp site we went for a drive. 

It is my pleasure to inform you that Springbok, Blouwildebees and Gemsbok (Oryx) are not extinct species.

We arrive back at the camp just before sunset.  An errant little sand storm came past, leaving everything under sand.  Then the clouds started stacking up against the horizon until we eventually had a wonderful performance of a thunder storm.  The bolts of lightning would light up the skies, pretty much like daylight.  You would have been able to read your newspaper.  Admittedly, you would have had to do it fast.  Then the rain came.  Not much, just enough to leave everything fresh and wet. 

The next day our older kids found the swimming pool.  There they entertained everyone who wanted to look, and also everyone who were involuntarily exposed to their performance, to 99 ways how to fall in the water.  

From our camping site we had an unrestricted view of the entrance gate to the Park.  It made for some interesting observations watching new guests arriving, especially those doing so with sedan cars, rather than with bakkies or commercial type of vehicles.  Invariably the driver (who has now just finished what could possibly be the worst bit of gravel road he has ever travelled on) would get out, walk to his rear wheel, and upon finding it to still be in place, give it a kick just to be sure his eyes are not playing parts with him, before trundling off to the entrance gate. 

That evening we had ostrich meat and Karoo lamb on the fire.  The Karoo lamb tasted like a dream.  The ostrich meat…. well, nothing good comes to mind.  We later realised that we did not have the ostrich properly done yet.  Clearly we are not rare ostrich meat enthusiasts.  That evening it was so quiet we could sit back and have a dinner outside at candle light.

It is interesting how the days can just rush past without you seemingly having done anything when you are camping.  Not that it is a bad thing.  After all, you are on holiday, intent on doing as little as possible. 

The next afternoon two trucks with German overlanders …

Trunk Call

By Johnie Jonker

Elecam

In April 2001 the South African Natural History Unit (SANHU) released a wildlife TV film commissioned by Discovery Channel International, Animal Planet and HIT Entertainment. The press release read as follows:

Described as one of the most exciting natural history shows ever seen on television, ‘Ele Tele’ offers 50 minutes of sensational viewing from the unbelievably exciting personal perspective of a mature African elephant cow as she ranges through South Africa’s Addo Elephant National Park.

In a world-first, SANHU filmed the footage for the programme using a specially-designed camera and microphone rig (called the EleCam), attached to a collar worn by Afslurpie – an elephant specifically selected for the project by South African National Parks (SANP). Since the EleCam was controlled remotely, there was no film crew close to the elephant or her family. As a result, the recorded footage – filmed between mid-January and mid-February this year – reflects the uninhibited behaviour of elephants in the wild and has provided revelatory information for scientists about elephant behavioural patterns.

Not covered by the film, however, was the learning curve which commenced exactly a year earlier, leading up to the (eventual) successful shooting of this footage. The following is an attempt to relate these events as an eyewitness report.

Start

The original camera was contracted to a UK company who installed a radio controlled zoom camera with video transmitter inside an enclosure, to be mounted on a collar attached around the elephant’s neck.

As my employer at the time did the maintenance on the Route 66 helicopter camera equipment – which provided aerial footage for the project – we were known as having some experience in the design of cameras, and the Elecam was brought to us for comment.

It was immediately clear that the designers knew only the first thing about elephants – that they were big – hence the camera did not have to be “discreet”. They did not realise that elephants also:

• Swim, with only the “periscope” up
• Squirt themselves (often!) with muddy water and dust
• Although not that fast, have LOTS of momentum when crashing through trees
• Are intelligent and inquisitive

to name the immediately obvious ones.

Although dirt obscuration was anticipated to be a problem and the prototype camera was equipped with a window washer, the tank capacity was inadequate. It was however decided to use it as is for the initial testing in the Kruger National Park – but of course with the hope that it would be successful and sufficient to complete the program first time round.

The Journey

The adventure started one rainy day in January 2000. This was not just any rainy day, but was the early stages of the flood period remembered for Rosita Pedro, the Mozambican baby, born in a tree. The helicopter that picked us up in Centurion was loaded to capacity and we v-e-r-y slowly gained height on our way to Skukuza. The weather report indicated that the cloud base was too low to get over the Drakensberg under VFR (Visual Flight Rule) conditions, and the pilot therefore headed for Haenertsburg, flying in driving rain all the way. When we reached the outskirts of the township, the streets were muddy rivulets, and the helicopter was brought to a hover to assimilate the situation. It was almost surrealistic the way the collective pitch lever between the two front seats were pulled up  like the handbrake of a car, as if at an intersection, Piet Otto slowly rotating the helicopter to pick the best route. This turned out to be down the Olifants River Valley, and what a ride!

All the passengers were on look-out duty for cables strung across the river by the locals, used to transfer their possessions and gatherings from one side to the other – we were that low. Having spent many hours in helicopters prior to this, it was unusual to have most of the environment above and around, rather than below, as is the norm.

We broke cover as the gorge opens up at the bottom of the Abel Erasmus pass and from there had a clear run via Hoedspruit to our destination.

 The Equipment

As the video image was to be transmitted live from the camera, a receiving point was required. This was provided by the SAPS Air Wing in the form of a loan mobile receiving station. This consisted of a trailer resembling a horse-box, with a pneumatic mast with an omni-directional antenna on top which could be extended to 30m, providing good reception coverage. This system is normally used by the Air Wing as receiving station for the stabilized cameras they have on their helicopters.

As the transmission frequency was dependent on line-of-sight between transmitter and receiver being maintained (pretty much like the signal between a cell phone and the nearest tower), the terrain where it was set up was also chosen to be relatively even, so that the signal would not be obscured by tall geographical features.

This MGRS (Mobile Ground Receiving Station) was hauled along from the Johan Coetzee SAPS Airwing HQ in Pretoria to Skukuza by SANHU, where we camped – within the staff village – for the duration of the trials.

The Process

The procedure was planned to be executed as follows:

• The chosen elephant would be separated from the herd by cutting it off with the Route 66 helicopter

• The elephant would then be darted from the helicopter after rounding it up to a location as close as possible to where the ground crew was waiting on one of the “no entry” roads
• Next, the collar would be installed. This consisted of a wide synthetic strap with the camera in the centre, and the two ends going round to below the elephant’s neck, attached to a car battery in a box. The battery provided both 12V power to the camera and served as counter-balance to retain the camera position central to the head of the elephant.
• Conservation personnel would be in continuous attendance and monitor the vital signs of the elephant. One of their activities would be to apply water to the inside of the elephant’s ears as coolant, as these are an elephant’s radiators. Due to the flapping action required to make it work, this cooling function would now be absent.

The saving of Sam

By Johnie Jonker

Sam was my 8-year old medium-sized cross-breed dog which was given to me by my future wife a few months into our relationship.

A mostly black – with tan details – superbly intelligent, enthusiastic, energetic, loyal family dog. Endless entertainment for my two young sons. In fact, we seem to recall that my oldest son – almost 5 at the time of the events described below – Jacobus’ first words were not Mamma or Pappa, but Saaa..!, Saaa…!, toddling around the yard looking for the dog. His next word was Tee….taa! (tea-time – this he learnt from his grandfather) when he was thirsty. But I digress.

Prior to leaving for Norway as technical support for a tracking camera system used at the speed-skating and ski-jumping venues of the 1994 Winter Olympic Games, the sliding gate at home packed up and was stuck in the open position. Sam was standing inside the drive-way, when the neighbour from across the street’s Staffordshire terrier managed to slip out their gate, came over and attacked him, in the process breaking both bones of his left front lower leg.

We had spent quite a bit of money on vet bills – reasonably beyond the point where most people would have had their pet put down – trying to get the leg fixed, but Sam kept on eating the plaster-of-Paris off in order to get to the itch. We had given up hope on the leg healing due to the persistent infection, and were considering whether the leg should be amputated or perhaps even the dog put down as a cheaper option. These were some of the thoughts I left home with.

Back to Norway. On the days when there were no speed-skating events in Hamar, we were free to travel on the official buses which continuously commuted between the various Olympic villages from 4 am to 12pm daily. In this way we (the rest of the UK/American camera crew and me) got to do quite a bit of sightseeing in terms of events. Our accreditation IDs – hanging around our necks – allowed access to all the other venues. As Lillehammer was the main village, and also where the company – Aerial Camera Systems – which contracted my services were stationed, I went there a number of times.

On one of these occasions I was up at the ski-jumping arena, where the opening ceremony also took place and where rehearsals for the closing ceremony were presently under way. One of the events were going to be the entry of the Olympic mascots – two kids named Haakon and Kristin, doll-children from Norwegian folklore – on a sled pulled by a team of huskies.

The dogs were quite unruly and keen to run, almost to the point of destruction, and were howling away, tugging at the reins. As I stood there watching this I suddenly burst out crying uncontrollably. At first I thought maybe I was just homesick – I had been away for three weeks now, and it would take another three weeks before I got back – but once I could think clearly, I realized what it was.

That evening when I got back to Hamar – normally I’m too stingy to phone, I rather write emails – I phoned my wife and told her that whatever the cost, we must save Sam’s leg.

She wanted to know how I came to this decision. I said:”The huskies told me”.

JJJ…

Hundred Million Rands

But for you, my friend, we make it Pounds Sterling

By JJ Jonker

Yes, that would be my net worth if I claimed some of the lottery wins of which I have been notified during the month of August. Being from a Calvinistic background however, I knew that all this money would corrupt me, and therefore opted out. It is however fascinating how widely one can amass money without even entering a lottery. All you need to do is send an email. This automatically enters you for the draw.

Exactly the opposite of the faithful Christian, who one day started complaining bitterly to God that in his experience, the power of prayer is a myth. This because he had been faithfully praying every night – since it’s inception – to win the Lotto. But to date, he has not even won any of the smaller, “3-correct number” prizes.  A voice from above then responded as follows: “Please help me out here and at least buy a ticket”.

To prove that I am not making this up, I attach a summary of (some) of my winnings for August:

I can declare solidarity with those intrepid astronomers of way back when they first realised the earth was not flat or that it was not the centre of the universe. Should they tell anyone?

The above results – multiple lottery wins on the same day, TWICE in one month – proves beyond a single thread of doubt that statistics and probabilities as we know it today, is complete hogwash.

In addition to the above wins, I have also been named the beneficiary of – amongst others – a USD4.5 million estate, should I claim to be the relative of one “Mr Andre Deek, who died in a terrible hot air balloon crash that also took the lives of two other innocent souls”. Barrister Ben Mnpapati from the Eenin Republic (could not find this on Google) goes on to say that: “All I require is your honest co-operation ….”

By these persistent attempts to separate me – and no doubt many others – from my money, I question the truth of the saying: “There’s a sucker born every minute”. No, it has to be more frequent than this, say every 5 seconds?

The background to these scams is usually well researched, and built around commonly known facts, e.g. the existence of the organization allocating/enquiring about any issue. Below is such an example, banking on the greed and gullibility of the human species. The highlighting indicating the hooks and their explanation is mine.

This is a confidential message (there we go, I am the only person to receive this) from IEFM Private Equity and financial Consultants.

We are conducting a standard process investigation on behalf of HSBC private bank (Yes, I’ve heard of them, they also sponsor Gran Prix motor racing), the private banking arm of the international banking conglomerate (Right again. Their head office is in Canada).

This investigation involves a client who shares the same surname (what a coincidence!) with you and also the circumstances surrounding investments made by this client at HSBC Private.

The client died in intestate (ag shame) and nominated no successor in title over the investments made with the bank. The essence of this communication with you is to request you (to) provide us (with) information/comments (sure, what harm can this do?) on any or all of the issues:

1-Are you aware of any relative/relation who shares your same name who’s last known contact address was Madrid, Spain?

2-Are you aware of any investment of considerable value made by such a person at the Private Banking Division of HSBC Bank PLC?

3-Can you establish beyond reasonable doubt your eligibility to assume status of successor (my goodness, what a stroke of luck!) in title to the deceased?

It is pertinent that you inform us ASAP whether or not you are familiar with this personality (so) that we may put an end to this communication with you and our nquiries (spelling mistake) surrounding this personality (not quite the Queen’s English).

You must appreciate that we are constrained (yes, of course I understand – banks can’t divulge personal details of clients to ANY outsider, related or not) from providing you with more detailed information at this point. Please respond to this mail as soon as possible to afford us the opportunity to close this investigation (I’m going to do so straight away).

Thank you for accommodating our enquiry (nice, civil people).

If you share my surname – or any other should also work – you are welcome to take up this offer on my behalf by contacting Paula at the address below. 

Paula Aguilar (nice Spanish name – where have I heard it before? A singer, perhaps?) Email: iefm@w.cn

Just imagine if the scammer put this effort into a real job – say journalism – what career heights could be achieved.

However, invariably, these letters contain poor grammar, spelling mistakes (possibly from a Nigerian dictionary) no official letterhead, and if so, a poorly scanned logo from e.g. a bank, which is easily detected due to its low resolution.

Although the example above has a name, these often sound fake, almost as if a computer generated it by taking a random name from one list and combining it with a surname from a second list, or quite often the combination of two surnames. Here are some examples:

Mr Haruna Sule, The Camelot Group on behalf of the UK Lottery, Mr Mohammad Noiraat from Sudan – presently residing in Kwazulu Natal and Morris Camara with the same details, George Garang (and others) from Stantanders Bank, London (no, this how they spell it), Mrs Selena Gomez Smith from (also) the UK National Lottery Commission.

Here’s one from a person who would like to know me better:

Hi, Good day, my name is Miss Stephanie 26yrs single girl, from Sierra Leone in West Africa. Presently residing in Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso) I will love to know you. Upon your reply I will tell you more about myself and send you my picture.
Love Stephanie

What a lovely letter. Not asking for any money. I like the girl already. It sounds like the type PG attracts.

Some offerings are of course more blatant right from the start, directly …

EMC

By Johnie Jonker

Electro-Magnetic Compatibility, or rather, in this case, Incompatibility.

Well, what does this mean? Ever notice the CE, GS, TUV or any of a host of other markings on amongst other, portable electronic devices? It’s on your laptop power supply, your cell-phone charger, the food mixer, etc. These are international safety standards to which the various devices comply and (should) have been tested to, which means, amongst others, that when turning on one device, it will not electronically interfere with another, being compatible with it.

So if your wife switches on her hair drier, the TV picture does not go skew. Or Uncle Phil’s cardioverter-defibrillator (ok then, pacemaker) does not attack him. A necessary safe-guard, it would seem.

Of course cars, also being highly electronicised these days, have to comply with similar requirements. However…

Regular exercisers will be familiar with heart rate monitors, such as the Polar 610i.

These HRMs work in conjunction with a chest strap, transmitting the wearer’s heart rate at periodic intervals. The signal is of an electromagnetic nature and picked up by the wrist receiver or gym treadmill. The data can then be displayed and/or recorded in real time for an instant indication of effort, and also allow PC download and analysis at a later stage.

The basic formula for maximum heart rate is calculated by the HRM as 220 minus your age, so in my case a heart rate of 168 beats per minute should be achievable prior to being carried out on a stretcher.

I have however found a way to achieve even better heart rates without going to the gym at all. How, you may well ask – by sitting in my car. And no, not road-rage related.

Getting into the car with a heart rate of sub – 60 bpm, the moment the ignition is switched on, the indication revs up to 210 – 230 bpm, the abundance of electromagnetic interference flying around in the cabin totally swamping the Wearlink signal.

Now, if the over-reading was just a bit more realistic, say 85% of the max heart rate, one could (ab?)use it to effortlessly exercise and earn points through Vitality. “I’m going to the gym, dear”, would take on a whole new meaning: sitting in your car in the garage at home for 30 minutes, listening to some relaxing music, having a beer and a really good chill. But no, trust the car manufacturer to go and completely overdo it!

I am sure that at least some readers would agree that the above type of exercising may actually prove to be more beneficial to their health than a strenuous work-out at the gym. Yes?….No?

But back to matters automotive: If a local motoring magazine were to publish this information, I guess it would be under their “Leisure Heels” section.

This may also well be a world first and the dawn of a new era in terms of automotive advertising: “Go Green! Buy our new model, and communicate with the dolphins and whales!

Being bombarded with such an unseen force from within, I have become wary about possible, even bigger, forces from without. So when I’m on my way to the gym wearing the HRM, one of my “pre-flight” checks prior to departing from home, is to ensure that the sunroof is CLOSED, for fear of being beamed up by Scotty.

JJJ…

TO HELL AND BACK

By PG Jonker

How it happened

Over a cup of coffee Pieter let it slip that he had a caravan site booked at the Calitzdorp Spa.  I did not know that Calitzdorp had a Spa.  Actually, I did not even know where Calitzdorp was.  Nevertheless, I then promptly booked a site for my family as well.  After all, we had a brand new second hand tent that had to be taken for a test drive.

Packing

Packing for a tour is not per definition ‘touring’.  However, in this case the packing requires some comments.  See, this new tent of ours was a rip stop dome with a “diner / extension”.   Apart from the day that I took delivery of it and pitched it just to check that everything was there, this tent had not been camping with us before. 

Given the size of the tent with extension, though, it was clear from the outset that there would not be space for our fold out mattresses.  In fact, there would not even be space for the “diner / extension” if we do not take a trailer along which we did not have.  Out of curiosity I weighed the equipment, only to find that the whole package weighed a cool 70kg’s!

Standing back to inspect after packing our stuff the Friday evening before our departure, it appeared that I might, with a bit of rescheduling, get that diner/extension in as well.  So the packing started all over again.  Everything had to come out of the double cab again.  Rather proud of myself I managed to get the complete tent with the extension in.  After all, the whole idea was to see if we could get this right before the upcoming tour to the Kgalagadi Park a few months later.  All that remained was that “last few things” that comes in the morning of our departure.  Experience have taught me, though, that this “last few things” often gets very near to breaking the camel’s back!

Calitzdorp spa

We departed early Saturday morning.  Twice.  At Kraaifontein, about 10km’s away from home, we had to turn around the switch off an electrical appliance.  The second attempt was more successful. 

Calitzdorp is far from Durbanville, especially if you later find that your eyes have become watery because of a need to visit the restroom.  To make matters worse, the road signs did not play along at all.  By the time we should have reached Calitzdorp, the road sign said it was still 10km’s away.  When we eventually reached Calitzdorp, we learnt that the Spa was still 20km’s off.  And when we eventually reached the turnoff to the Spa, there was yet another sign indicating the Spa to be still 7km’s away!  Paah!  Eventually, though, we got there.

Pitching tent

It took a while to pitch the tent.  Quite a while.  No. Let me rephrase.  It took a ^&*($@# long time!  By the time the last tent peg was in, it was 15h00 – just in time to go find a TV to watch the Tri-Nations rugby test between South Africa and Australia.  The test, I am happy to report, was won by South Africa, albeit with a small margin.

It was a wonderfully quiet full moon night.  However, by 21h00 one got the feeling that your denims are just too cold against your skin for comfort.  Pieter warned that it became rather chilly the previous night – they came a day earlier.  Now how cold exactly, we asked.  Quite cold, reckoned Pieter. 

It turned out to be -1 ° Celsius.  Cold, man.  Like in Kimberley-in-the-army-in-winter kind of cold.  Eish!  You can put more clothes on, but it only prolonged the process of the cold eventually getting into your bones – it cannot prevent it.  This is not, let me tell you, my idea of camping. 

During the course of the night my wife did her rendition of Racheltjie de Beer , checking on the kids every now and then to see if everyone is still alive.  And every time she finds yet another garment from a bag to throw over us.  By 05h00 the next morning we were fighting against the awake.  We did notice to our relief that and could not be too long before the sun would be out.

Swartberg

Getting started – literally

Sunday morning eventually broke.  The plan was to go over the Swartbergpas [‘Black Mountain pass”] and to visit Die Hel.  [“The Hell”].  But first we needed to get the kids out of bed. 

Some of them were crying because it was so cold.  I could relate to that – I pretty much felt the same.  Everything in your body hurts because of the cold.   The windscreen of the Mazda was frosted up.  I chose not to use warm water to improve things for fear of cracking the windscreen.  So I decided to rather get the engine running and to drive through the caravan park whilst getting the heater to defrost the windscreen.  However, because of the cold the remote control would not work.  So I had to unlock the door with the key.  As expected, the quietness of the early Sunday morning was shattered by the wailing of the alarm.  It took a while to get that deactivated.

Because of the fact that the choke of the bakkie [for those not from SA, a bakkie is a light pick-up truck, or a utility vehicle in Ozz] was giving me problems, I had that made inactive some time before.  I will not take you through the process, but suffice to say that it took some convincing to get that 3.4 litre petrol engine started without a choke in sub zero temperatures.

I took Chris-Jan, then 17 months old then, with me in the bakkie.  At least it was mos supposed to be warmer inside the bakkie than outside.  Not so.  With the frost on the windscreen I had no choice but to wind down the window and hang out of the window to see where I was going.  So, whereas in theory it was supposed to be nice and warm inside, it took an inordinately long time before that point was reached.  In the meantime Chris-Jan and I had to contend with what I believe the weather station …

West Coast Tour – Gallery [1]

First Stop: Langebaan

[Source: Map data ©2014 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

At Mykonos yacht club.

Kite surfers on the beach

Saldanha

Just around the bay to Saldanha.  A panoramic view from the koppie overlooking the bay.  If you know what to look for you can see Mykonos in the middle in the background.

Jacobs Bay

Jacobsbaai hotel

Swartriet

Walking distance away from the Jacobs Bay hotel

Paternoster

Paternoster beach

Shopping at Paternoster

Tietiesbaai

Where Tietiesbaai got its name from

Camping at Tieties Bay

Cape Columbine lighthouse

…

West Coast Tour – Gallery [2]

Stompneusbaai / St Helenabaai

[Source: Map data ©2014 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

Stompneus Bay

Shopping at Stompneus Bay

Mid-West, St Helena Bay

Sandy Point Harbour

Velddrif

The bridge over the Berg river

Port Owen in Laaiplek

Dwarskersbos

Rocher pans

Elandsbaai

Elandsbaai hotel

Lambert’s Bay

Harbour

Bird hide

Gannets

Side walk cafe – Isabella’s

…

Are you ready, Steve?

One day, I want to play in a band.  It only need to be once.  But I want to be the guy with the microphone.  And there must be a guy in the band whose name is “Steve”.  See, I want to call over my shoulder:  “Are you ready, Steve?”

In the seventies my brother had an LP (for the X-generation: a Long Player, a vinyl, a record;  that funny round black thing that you put a needle on and turn it around and then it makes music, OK?).  On this LP there was this song that started like that.  I can’t remember the song, really, only the intro.  But it fascinated me.  The leader of the band calls over his shoulder to Steve.  But Steve does not talk.  He just goes crazy with a drum roll.  And then the next thing, you had the music.  Cool, man. 

It’s one of those iconic moments for me.  You know, similar to where Clint Eastwood says:  “Do it, make my day,” in the movie Sudden Impact.  Or Clark Gable’s “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,”  in Gone with the Wind.  I’ve always been looking for a good opportunity to use these two phrases, but I’m rather careful how to use it, you know what I’m saying.

Anyway, back to Steve.  I was too young to know who the band was.  But bro’ Johnie  is 5 years older and a bit of a music nut.  It was The Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz, he advises.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard ol’ Steve.  Time for a bit of fresh inspiration, methinks.

PGJ…

Robbery

By PG Jonker

Thomas* came from Zimbabwe.  There was a time when his fortunes were better.  He had his own karate dojo in Harare.  But if people don’t have money for food, they don’t exercise that much, nor do they pay their fees.  So Thomas became one of the millions of Zimbaweans to come in search of a better future here in Africa’s land of milk and honey.

The road down to Cape Town runs through Johannesburg.  So Thomas found himself in downtown Johannesburg with one bag of luggage, on his way to go look for the end of the rainbow in Cape Town. 

Johannesburg can be a cruel place, Thomas was about to find out.  Three gentlemen approached him, indicating that they will happily relieve him of his luggage.  Finding Thomas not to be excessively amenable to this transaction, they exercised some duress.  One with a pistol, the other with a knife, and the last one with a screw driver.

By that time  a simple obliging gesture from Thomas was not enough any more.  The smell of blood was in the air and had to be taken to the next level, as the bad guys in the movies would say.

Now, in spite of Thomas’s 66kg frame he can pretty much fight any guy.   And in the ring he can stand 60 one-minute fights with no breather in between without appearing to be unduly tired at the end.   However, his adversaries’ armaments, more in particular the pistol, poses a bit of a problem.

By the time Thomas went down to the ground he already had two gashing wounds on his upper right arm, courtesy of the knife and the screw driver respectively.  However, as he looked up he saw that there was no magazine in the pistol.  There might have been a round in the chamber, but it was worth taking the risk.

Getting up from the ground and hitting the guy with the pistol was one movement.  In spite of Thomas’s (lack of body) weight, years of training and skill, combined with that weight,  can have  the same effect than the kick of a mule.  The guy with the pistol hit the ground not even knowing where the blow came from.

His two side-kicks quickly re-assessed their position, and in spite of their numbers and the fact that they were armed, decided to perform the ultimate maneuvre of self defence and to run away.  A flash of wisdom must have hit the chap with the pistol too, as he then decided to join his to fleeing friends.

And as the dust literally settled down, the two policieman who were watching the fracas from a safe distance approached Thomas to ask whether he is OK.  He was, thank you.

PGJ…